


choose

by aloneatsea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Gen, and ultimately making a choice for themselves, introspective, like a baby character study, rhea and edelgard are like...minor characters but, this is a fic abt byleth coming to terms with their newfound agency, whatever the consequences may be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloneatsea/pseuds/aloneatsea
Summary: In the Holy Tomb, for the first time, Byleth makes a choice.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	choose

**Author's Note:**

> :^) why do i keep writing gen fic. my little shipping heart is like hey bitch write some edeleth or marihilda and my brain is like heehoo more byleth genfic
> 
> anyway enjoy!! i love byleth

It takes hardly more than a second for the segments of her blade to lash against Edelgard’s cheek, and she stumbles backwards. Byleth freezes, as the aura of intent to harm vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. Edelgard knows she’s beaten. There’s no hope of winning. 

Byleth struck her. Even if Edelgard was the aggressor, Byleth took her sword and struck her, like any enemy. For a brief moment, she’d felt like she did before she came to the monastery. The Ashen Demon, they knew her as. Following orders, apathetic, uncaring. It’s different this time, though. She wishes she could take it back. It’s just a scratch, but the blood dripping from Edelgard’s cheek is real. 

She had to have known she was going to lose, so why?

“So this is the end,” Edelgard says, exhaling in a shudder. She steadies herself, but her armour looks too big for her body. Strong as though she might be, she’s small. Defiant against all the world, a conviction unmatched, she stands there, unflinching amidst the gazes of horror. Linhardt. Petra. Dorothea. Caspar. Bernadetta. Ferdinand. Byleth can feel their fear, their anger, their sadness pressing into her. They beg to know why.

“You have disappointed me, Edelgard,” Rhea hisses, stepping up beside Byleth. Her footsteps were so light, she didn’t even notice her approach. It’s unsettling – as is the tone of her voice. That’s not anger, that’s – hatred. Potent enough to make her shiver. “To think that a descendent of House Hresvelg would dare betray the holy church…”

The world has always felt bigger than Byleth. Rhea speaks with rage fueled by a history Byleth doesn’t know, and Edelgard stands resilient with a determination Byleth cannot fathom. She wants to understand, but the thread between them, holding them back from chaos grows taut.

“So it is you who stands in my way,” Edelgard says, fixating her gaze on Byleth. There’s a profound sadness there, hidden amongst her frustration and conviction. “I always knew it would come to this…”

Her voice carries wistful, despite its harshness, in the echoing chambers of the Holy Tomb. What do you mean, she wants to ask. Why, she wants to know. I want to understand you, she wants to tell her. 

“Professor,” Rhea speaks slick poison into Byleth’s ears, “kill Edelgard at once.”

Like a soldier without a mind of her own, her hand tightens on the grip of her blade. The gem in the Sword of the Creator glows brighter. Edelgard closes her eyes in resignation. 

_ Wait. _

“She is a danger to all of Fodlan. Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating.”

_ This isn’t…what I want? _

It catches her off-guard. Where a blur used to stand in her mind, a hazy fog, now it remains clear. She didn’t have to think, she just  _ did _ . Slicing the throats of bandit after bandit wasn’t a conscious affair, and yet – her movement freezes. 

Kill her?

In front of all her students? In front of Linhardt, who cried in his room after seeing blood on his hands? In front of Dorothea, who became so attached to her? In front of Ferdinand and Caspar, who believed so truly in justice?

Edelgard isn’t a bandit. She’s not a blank-faced criminal willing to kill for simple money. This is bigger than that – bigger than all of them. What right does Byleth have to strike that down? 

The facts remain, though – Edelgard raided the Holy Tomb. She attempted to take the bones and Crest Stones laid to rest here. That’s a crime, isn’t it? Rhea sounded so  _ hurt _ , like it was a personal affront. There was fear there, too. 

But…to kill her? Right here, in cold blood? It – that couldn’t be right. 

“I—” 

Rhea’s voice heaves rage and fury into the atmosphere. 

“ _ Kill her! _ ” she screams, her murderous intent echoing into the ears of her students.  _ My students. _

Byleth looks back at them, and they seem so much smaller than before. Dorothea’s pulled Bernadetta and Petra close to her, like she’s trying to shield them from the calamity unfolding before them. Linhardt looks so sad. Caspar looks so angry, and Ferdinand – won’t look at her. 

“No,” Byleth says, and if she had a beating heart, she’s sure it would have stopped. 

Rhea turns on her heel. 

“What was that?” she says, eyes wide like an owl at midnight. Byleth realizes how little she knows about Rhea. She’s on the brink of anger. If Byleth were a child, she might have cowered away and covered her face. 

“I won’t,” Byleth says, releasing the tension in her cheeks. “I won’t kill her.” 

_ I don’t want to kill her.  _

Byleth’s never refused before – she’s never had to make a moral judgement. Never wanted to. Life with Jeralt was so much simpler – he ordered, and she followed, and there was always meat for dinner. She didn’t have to think; perhaps she didn’t even know how to. She learned to handle a blade, and slew those who she needed to. 

When she came to the monastery, she thought it would be much of the same. Follow orders, teach a class. It wasn’t until she was ordered to kill Lonato that she hesitated – just a little bit. She still remembers Ashe’s face when she told him she killed him. Horror, hatred, intermingled with respect and so, so much grief. 

She hadn’t understood, back then, what it meant to lose someone. It was a tragedy, of course, but those who hurt people had to be put down. They had to be. 

_ “We’ll teach the children what happens if they turns their blades against the church.” _

She hadn’t questioned it back then, but maybe she should have. All of her students questioned. The students of the Empire questioned whether it was right to kill Lonato. Lysithea, Sylvain, and even Mercedes questioned whether it was right to kill Miklan. 

Edelgard, though – Edelgard questioned all of it. 

Byleth had never thought to question everything like that. The world as it related to her only extended to the tip of her blade, and anything else was a problem too big for her to solve. 

She feels differently now. 

“You… How dare you!” Rhea spits, and the soldier in Byleth flinches. There’s a part of her begging to just relent, obey, and stop  _ thinking _ , but the relentless aching in her chest won’t go away. It’s a mere three steps, but as she comes to stand before Edelgard, blood still wet on her cheek, Byleth feels like she’s crossed a canyon. 

“You – I thank you, but –” Edelgard looks lost for words. Byleth has none to give her. She won’t let them die – any of them. 

Behind them, the students change. There’s shock there, still, but relief in their shoulders, too. Dorothea stands a little taller, and Linhardt instead looks contemplative. 

The air chills as Byleth meets Rhea’s eyes. She becomes aware of just how tall Rhea is – towering over them with an icy intent. 

Byleth has always felt small. Even as she grew better and better with a sword in hand, she’d never felt like her actions mattered in the grand scheme of the world. She was simply a mercenary, a sellsword. She would never amount to anything, and was content with that. 

When Sothis disappeared and granted her the powers of a God, Edelgard told her that she must use her power for the greater good. It had never even occurred to her. She had always just been Byleth. 

She’d never had a choice before, but now –

_ I want to choose my own path. _

_ I want to change. _

_ I want to grow.  _

“So,” Rhea says, softly, but with the impact of a thousand silver swords, “this is the choice you’ve made. In the end, you are just another failure.”

_ I chose this. _

The ache in her chest blossoms into something like hope.

Rhea steps forwards. 

“Your presence soils this Holy Tomb and disgraces my brethren.”

_ For the first time, I – _

“I will not allow one who would lend our enemies strength to wield the power of the goddess Sothis.”

The air around Rhea begins to glow, like a light emerging from the distant darkness. She can feel it – a surge of power as heavy as Sothis’s weighing at the air. 

“I have passed judgement, and now I shall rip your chest open and take back your heart myself!”

_ My…heart…? _

In the place where the archbishop once stood roars a beast Byleth can only describe as – a dragon. Pure-white scales, an immense figure, four horns, and wings that beat to the rhythm of a hurricane. 

“That must be the Immaculate One,” Hubert says, urgency in his voice. “There is no time to waste. Your Majesty, Professor – we must escape while we can.”

Hubert clutches a hand around Byleth’s waist, and casts a spell Byleth doesn’t recognize. The Immaculate One, the Holy Tomb, and all of her students fade away. It feels like a void, cold and empty. There’s no light here. 

_ Rhea…wants my heart. My still, unbeating heart. _

Byleth looks at her hands. Bloodstained as they are, they’re warm. 

_ Dad, before you died, you told me not to trust Rhea. _

_ I read your diary. She did something to me, didn’t she? Something to my heart.  _

_ I made sure to listen. I told her no. She wanted me to kill one of my students in cold blood, and I – said no. _

_ Is this what it’s like to choose your own path? I’m so conflicted, Dad. I’ve never felt so heavy before.  _

_ I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. I’m lost, Dad. I miss you, Dad.  _

_ I hope that you’re still proud of me. _


End file.
